New York Nights
by CSINYMinute
Summary: A series of one-shots, with some old friends, some new ones and just cause I like playing with them! Rated M for some content chapter ratings on each chapter
1. Chapter 1

**New York Nights: The Wedding Night (M)**

**Just because people have been asking for little snippets here and there and because I suddenly decided that some of my stories weren't entirely done! So I hope you enjoy them!**

**Although some of them are rated a T, as some are rated M, all of them are rated M for safety! This one has some married smut in it. Well, they're pregnant and tying the knot people!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with CBS or the show**

**Dedications: To Tinks, Sam, X-Samilious-X and Dori and all of my other regular reviewers! I know some of you are missing one of my OCs desperately!**

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Harrison slipped her the envelope the afternoon before the final fitting. His wedding present to her, he told her. She opened it to find she now had two nights in a luxury two bedroom suite at the Waldorf Astoria. She smiled to herself.

Now _that_ was a wedding present and a half.

So here she was, the night before her wedding, with her best friend Jess Angell, drinking champagne and letting the resident beauty experts work their magic on them. Well, Jess was drinking champagne. She was drinking a non-alcoholic cocktail, given her status of knocked up.

Her wedding dress was shot silk, in a Regency design (well she did have a Pride and Prejudice fetish after all), a traditional dress with a cross-over bust line and closure: A series of hooks and eyes hidden under the seams. Which meant, basically, that her future husband would have little problems with access on their wedding night tomorrow. She giggled, lifting her hand to her lips. Jess looked across at her and frowned. Her dress was similar to one the actress playing Elizabeth Bennett had worn in the BBC drama, red and slightly revealing. Jess had been enamored of it as soon as her friend had paused the DVD and asked her what she thought of it as her dress. Jess had decided on the full regency underwear and corset too, although that wasn't an option for her, given her pregnancy, although she had a lightly boned petticoat to go with her dress. Both women looked simply stunning in their dresses. She was wearing a whisper of a veil over her hair, which tomorrow the hairdresser was going to tease into a mass of ringlets in a mock period design to go with the dress. Jess was going to have her curls on top of her head too, with flowers tucked in. They had spent a great deal of time in the salon planning the designs. Their bouquets, now sitting in the refrigerator to keep them fresh, matched their dresses and each other. Jess had admitted that her friend looked absolutely stunning in her dress and she would be very surprised if she actually made it to the altar once her future husband got one look at her.

The women relaxed in their chairs, allowing the therapist to pamper them with manicures, pedicures and full-on gentle facials. All organized by a childhood friend of Jess' from Brooklyn, a woman who knew her stuff when it came to the beauty salons of New York.

Soft jazz filled the room as she let out a sigh. She loved her sleepovers with Jess, although the drunken, girly, dancing nights were a thing of the past.

In less than 24 hours, she would be Mrs. Donald Flack Jr. And she just couldn't wait.

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The blue-eyed detective tugged his tie loose as he stood at the bar of Sullivan's with his colleagues, family and friends. His father was living up the good old days with Sinclair and Gerrard, plus a few old buddies from his day and his old mentor, Gavin Moran, who he had recently gotten back in touch with, was regaling them with a few stories about the young Donnie on the beat. Judging from the roars of laughter, he wasn't getting off lightly. Flack winced.

He took a long mouthful of his pint of Guinness, regarding his colleagues, all getting slightly the worse for wear at the bar, cat-calling and wolf-whistling at the pretty girls in the bar and passing by outside. He really didn't want to think about what might have happened if he'd planned a bachelor party as opposed to telling everyone to meet him here after their shifts ended. At least he was going to be spared a stripper, even if his bride-to-be had smirked and said she wouldn't hold it against him if any pictures of him surfaced with a scantily clad woman on his knee and a thong in his teeth. Truth was, he just wasn't interested in any of that and hadn't been for a very long time. Especially not now he was going to be a father to boot.

All of which was why his current side-kick and companion was one Danny Messer, a man recently married himself, also with a new baby. Danny hadn't been able to hide his relief and joy at the fact that he, Don Flack, was now also tying the knot. So far, in the last months since he'd shacked up with the woman who had made him the happiest man on earth, he'd spent a good number of evenings over at the Messers and they at his place. Correction – his new place. A very nice four bed, split level house in Queens not ten minutes from his parents' place. Mom and Dad adored his fiancée and she them. He couldn't say the same about her parents unfortunately. Mom hadn't taken well the news that his future bitch-in-law had tried to buy him off. Their fathers had little in common as well. However, despite _his_ choice in wife, his soon-to-be brother-in-law was popular with both sides of the family. Harrison and his Dad enjoyed a mutual love of all things sporting, much to his future mother-in-law's horror. They had all come over to the folks' place for dinner the night before and Miranda (Harrison's fiancée) Vanessa and Stanley had been horrified when Harrison had accepted an invitation to drink beer and watch sports with the Flack men in the basement den. Harrison had ended up sleeping on the couch down there long after the rest of the family had retired to their hotels, beds and homes. Flack smirked at the memory of Harrison snoring peacefully clutching a teddy bear that he, Don Flack, had sworn he'd never seen before, but which he was sure his mother had told his future wife had been with him every night from the first one he'd spent in his home to the last before he'd moved into his apartment.

Danny slapped his back before placing another pint in front of him. Right before checking his watch. After all, he had two Messer women he needed to get home to. Flack cast a look round the bar and saw Stella and Mac trying desperately to deal with a considerably worse-for-wear Adam, who was singing some South Park tune very loudly and very out of tune. Mac shot an apologetic look at Flack as the two of them guided Adam out of the bar. Hawkes approached the bar and sat on the stool the other side of Flack.

"How are you doing?" the former ME asked.

"Yeah bud, any last requests?" said Danny with a snicker.

"Very funny," muttered Flack, taking another slurp from his pint glass, "No last requests except for this – get me outta here you two, before one of those jack-asses produced the stripper they've no doubt managed to sort out."

"Did you really think the precinct couldn't rustle something up, even at this short notice?" asked Hawkes with a grin. The NYPD did, after all, have its contacts.

Flack groaned. Danny slapped him on the back again.

"OK buddy," he said, "Let's get you outta here the back way."

Hawkes and Danny escorted their soon-not-to-be-single friend out of the bar. Flack was staying with Hawkes, to ensure he had a good night's sleep that wasn't broken by a baby crying. Louise Messer had a bad case of colic. His best man said goodnight and the two other men headed back to Hawkes' bachelor pad.

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Rebecca admitted she had a bad case of the jitters. She also had a bad case of the butterflies, seeing as their baby had decided that morning was the ideal opportunity to announce their first movements. She had woken Jess up early with the news, as her fiancé wasn't there. A grumpy and slightly hung-over Jess had thrown a pillow at her and told her to go away, before jumping out of bed and smothering her in a hug when Rebecca had told her _why_ she had woken her up.

Now, after breakfast and an extremely painful encounter with the hair stylist, she was patiently enduring the BeneFit girls giggling while doing her make-up. She so wanted this whole day to be over, but she had to admit they were doing a good job of hiding the bags under her eyes from little sleep when parted from her blue-eyed hero, the paleness due to the morning sickness she was still enduring into her second trimester on occasion and the hormonal issues that were plaguing her skin. Jess was enduring similar torture.

Just when she thought things couldn't get any worse, a knock at the door announced her mother and future sister-in-law.

Mommy dearest was not happy with her choice of dresses or her maid of honor, let alone that the ceremony, soon to be held downstairs, was a Catholic one. Rebecca didn't care. She just wanted the day to be over and to be in her future husband's arms again.

No-one ever told you how horny being pregnant made you and she had been deprived of her insanely handsome's fiance's amazing bedroom talents for the better part of 36 hours.

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He had to hand it to his future mother-in-law; she had pulled out all the stops for this. He resisted the urge to loosen his bow tie and glanced around the room. All cream walls and flower arrangements. Through the doors was another room, set out for dinner and dancing. It was a small wedding, but stylish nonetheless. Rebecca had managed to control her mother's attempts for a large society wedding (since the whole near-arrest moment over the bribery incident, Mommy toed the line with her daughter) and had been restrained to colleagues of the bride and groom, plus family from both sides. The guest list had come in at under 100 thankfully, but even so, this _small_ wedding was going to put a dent in his future-in-laws bank accounts that he was sure he wouldn't have been able to afford. He had had a text message from his future wife informing them that their first night together as husband and wife would be a) courtesy of her brother and b) upstairs, so they would be able to sneak away whenever they liked and go back to the reception if they so wanted. Not that they would. He was missing her like hell as much as she was him.

A few minutes later, a second text message had informed him of just what she expected from him as his first husbandly acts, an x-rated message that had him blush slightly and Messer chuckle a little when Flack told him who had sent the message.

"She missing you buddy?" his Best Man had asked.

So now he was sitting next to Danny and Hawkes, the judge in front of them (close personal friend of the family), the priest next to him waiting to perform the Catholic blessing. His parents were in the row of chairs behind him and his future family sat over the small aisle. He was waiting for his future wife, dressed in a tux, seeing as she'd been told about how good he looked in one by Stella.

The music being played by the quartet (tone deaf though he was, he had been reliably informed they were Juilliard educated and international standard) suddenly changed and Messer cleared his throat. Flack stood alongside his friends and turned, to see the love of his life, on the arm of her father, glowing as she made her way towards him with a smile on her face. She was beautiful, stunning in her simple, classic cream silk dress, a whisper-thin veil over her curls, a bouquet of cream roses with baby's breath in her free hand. Then she was next to him, he was pushing the veil back from her face and he was looking into her deep brown eyes.

And all of a sudden, everyone else in the room melted away and all he could think about was how he was marrying the woman of his dreams and having a baby with her.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey yourself," she replied, with a smile.

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The ceremony almost went without a hitch. Flack was so engrossed in his future wife that he had to be poked firmly in the ribs to make his responses by Rebecca, which caused a few grins.

What caused outright laughter was when, as the judge asked if anyone had any objections to the marriage, baby Louise Messer had decided that was the moment to let out a loud wail of annoyance and wave her chubby hands in the air as her mother frantically shushed her. Danny had finally broken down in laughter and had to be thumped on the back by Hawkes as he'd started to choke.

Neither bride nor groom had paid much attention to the speeches, the toasts or the table of wedding gifts (the more useful, thoughtful and wanted from their friends, the more useless and expensive from her family, although one or two had stuck to the wedding list).

They had danced the obligatory dance. They had shared the obligatory drinks. He had whipped off her garter with his teeth then flung it at Hawkes, who then had to pose with Jess Angell on his knee, seeing as she had caught the bride's bouquet.

Now they were biding the time before they could go upstairs and get acquainted with each other all over again as Mister and Missus.

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They restrained themselves in the elevator on the way to their floor. They only enjoyed some utterly chaste kisses, both smiling all the while as their lips met in a series of soft caresses.

They had all the time in the world for more passion.

At the door to their suite, he lifted her into his arms as she snuck the room card out of her bra (the only place she could stash it) and unlocked their door, smiling all the while as she fiddled and cursed with the lock. Then he kicked the door wide open and strode into the room. He carried her over to an over-sized armchair – one made for two – and gently placed her on it. He leaned forward and kissed her again, deepening the kiss with his tongue. As he pulled back, she had a questioning look in her eyes.

"Why aren't we going through to the bedroom?" she asked.

He just grinned in reply, a flash of devilment appearing in his deep blue eyes, before he knelt in front of her. She smiled and parted her legs. Despite the fabric, he moved easily between them.

"I love this dress," he said, "But I think I'd like it better if you were out of it."

She took his hands and brought them to the crossover bodice, showing him the hooks and eyes that held it closed. He brought his mouth to her neck, kissing and teasing his way down the vee neckline as he undid each one slowly. He heard her sigh, _his wife_, her breathing start to alter. He knew without looking that her eyes would be closed, her hands now clenched on the arms of the chair. He finished dealing with the dress and parted it, laying it open. He looked at the boned, silk petticoat under-dress underneath it, over a thin silk shift and frowned as he realized he would have to remove it entirely to gain access to her pregnancy enlarged breasts. Still, he caressed them gently through the silk fabric, hearing her let loose a small moan. She was so damn sensitive there now, he thought, sometimes just kissing and sucking her nipples these days brought her almost over the edge, he thought, thinking back to their last nights as a single co-habiting couple. Despite the fact she frequently told him she almost couldn't bear the sensation of it, she frequently was the one holding his dark head to her breast as he lapped at the sensitive flesh, the veins now visible due to the pregnancy hormones, her nipples darker, more rosy and enlarged.

He had to try a new tactic. So he lifted the silk under-dress, running his hands up her hose-clad legs, removing her ballet-style silk slippers that went with the dress. He stopped as he reached her knees, pushing the fabric higher and bent his head, kissing his way the rest of the way up her thighs. She sighed more heavily at that. He placed his hands behind her knees, pulling her so that she came forward to her buttocks were now on the edge of the seat. He pushed the fabric of the under-dress to her waist and the knee-length shift soon followed.

Which was when he realized that aside from the hold-up hose, was all the underwear she was wearing.

He lifted his head and looked at her. She blushed a little.

"Well, I was going with the traditional Regency look and they didn't wear panties," Rebecca explained.

He just smiled in reply and pushed the fabric right out of the way. He returned his lips to the soft skin of her inner thighs, licking and teasing his way up and down, getting a little higher each time, yet still avoiding going where she wanted him to. She kept her hands on the arms of the chair, her eyes now closed, panting slightly.

He gently moved her legs further apart, looking at the secret place he knew so well at the juncture of her thighs. He gently stroked the curls before parting the flesh, eliciting a gasp from his wife. He looked at the rosy flesh, starting to swell in arousal, before gently stroking her some more. The panting gave way to a moan. As he touched and probed the sensitive flesh, the moaning turned to mewling with pleasure, followed by slight movements of her hips, moving in time to the gentle ministrations of his fingers, moving them closer to where she needed them to be.

Then he stopped, moving away from her towards the wet bar, where someone had left a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice and two champagne glasses. He heard his wife protest and started to move herself upright, something she soon stopped doing when she saw the look in her husband's eyes. She settled herself backwards onto the cushions and waited for him.

He opened the bottle, the cork popping, poured himself a glass and returning to her, positioning himself where he had been before. He took a mouthful of the golden, bubbling liquid and bent his head, allowing the fizz to stimulate her clit.

He guessed from her gasps and cries, that she was enjoying it. He swallowed the mouthful, before taking another and repeating the action. He moved his hand and began stroking her folds, feeling the flutters of her pre-orgasm already beginning. He smirked in satisfaction, inserting a finger into her, causing her to buck wildly. He inserted another finger, gently thrusting them in and out of her, stimulating her g-spot as he did so. It was something he knew she loved.

Since she had gotten pregnant, making love had got even better between them, which was impressive considering it had been mind-blowing before that. What had been intense before now had even less restraint than before, although he had tempered his passion with gentleness now she was pregnant, the connection growing every day.

He continued what he was doing, it taking no time at all before her orgasm hit her, her crying out his name over and over. He stood again, picking her up in his arms, kissing her so she could taste herself on his lips. She kissed him back hungrily, winding her arms around his neck.

Smiling, he carried her through to the bedroom.

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He sat her on the edge of the king size bed, gently divesting her of the two remaining garments, but leaving the hose one, something that caused her to smile knowingly at him.

He did like the hose, she thought, especially when she left her heels on. Yes, he particularly enjoyed the sensation of her digging her three inch heels into his back. But not tonight. He helped her get more comfortable on the bed, before she watched him undress himself.

He'd lost the tie right after their first dance. But he was still wearing the rest of the tux. Stella had been right about how good he looked in one, she mused, but she hadn't told her how _hot_ he looked in the suit. Damn, he _did_ fulfill a girl's every secret agent fantasy. That was something to note in the play book for later, handcuffs notwithstanding.

His blue eyes were locked with hers as he stripped the jacket, the shirt, the trousers. She caught a breath when she realized he wasn't wearing his usual wife-beater, so she was treated to the sight of his wash-board abs and his scars a little sooner than usual. The sight, as always, never failed to make her gasp. He smirked as he heard it, knowing the effect the sight of him had on her.

He slowed down his strip as he handled his belt, watching the look on her face, her biting her lip with some small frustration as he slowly undid the button and drew the zip down, hissing as he accidently brushed his own sensitive flesh. The trousers dropped, taking his boxers along with them. He kicked both garments off, along with his shoes before bending and removing his socks. Then he stood, erect and proud, in front of her.

His wife smiled and held her arms out to him and he climbed onto the bed and kissed her, his hands roaming over her body as hers roamed his, touching, pinching, her nails grazing his back as he latched onto first her left breast, before repeating the action on her right. He raised his head to watch the tell-tale flush begin to stain her skin again. He could feel the rush of wetness from her folds on his thigh, which was between hers. He lifted his head and smiled at her, before his eyes flashed as he felt her hands on him, stroking his member. He bit his own lip, throwing his head back with how good it felt, before reaching down and taking her hands away from him. He nudged her legs further apart with both of his, making room for him between them. He settled himself at the apex of her thighs, making her move apart a little more. She gripped his shoulders, her eyes widening as they did every time they made love. He smiled, locking his gaze with hers.

She could feel him, the tip of him at her entrance and she looked deep into his eyes as he entered her, the feel of him making her gasp again, as it always did. She could never get enough of him, never.

They moved together, at first slowly, savoring every touch, caress and sensation, before their movements got less controlled, more passionate. He lifted one of her legs over his shoulder to enable deeper movements and increase the sensation for them both. It also allowed him access to gently rub her clit, something he knew from experience brought her swiftly to orgasm, something that happened soon after.

Listening to her cries, he thrust deeper into her, again and again, feeling her arms and legs closing all around him, holding him close, allowing him deeper. He felt himself lose control as she whispered in his ear to let go, to take as much pleasure from her as he always gave to her and he groaned, allowing his passion to take over. He achieved his release, spilling into her in several hot gushed of fluid. He heard her satisfied little sighs in his ear as he collapsed onto her, satiated. He kissed her softly, she nibbled his lips in return, their tongues dancing with each other as he gently withdrew from her. He moved behind her, one arm on the pillow above their heads, the other holding her to him, his big hand on the swell of her belly, protecting their baby.

They danced their own private wedding dance many more times that night.

But the moment they were both to remember was the instant the judge had presented them to the gathered guests as Mr. and Mrs. Don Flack Junior.

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**Well you kids have been asking for more smut and for more of my home-girl so I hope you're all pleased!**


	2. Chapter 2

**New York Nights: It's Way Beyond Time (T)**

**OK, so hands up how many of you wanted to know how Mac and Stella got together in my AU……?**

**Disclaimer: I own nada, zip, zilch**

**Dedication: To Andorian Ice Princess, Mr AprilFoolsWatanuki, my Smack'ed muses LOL!**

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They were best friends. They were each other's next of kin, they had keys to each other's apartments. If one was sick, the other would bring them chicken soup, Tylenol along with whatever other comfort food or item they could think of. She would watch him play at Cozy's most weeks, if she or he wasn't on shift. Their colleagues joked they could read each other's minds sometimes. They were so close it was like they were siblings.

And that was the problem. Because she wanted so much more.

He'd been there for her after Frankie. He'd been remorseful after encouraging her to date Drew. Look how both of those relationships turned out. The more she thought about it, the more she realized the reason none of her relationships ever worked out was because she was already committed to someone. She was already in love.

When they'd been in Greece, after their whole major showdown, she had thought they were at long last connecting _finally_. When he'd held her after Professor P – the man that DNA had subsequently proved was her biological father – she had broken down in his arms, letting him in in a way she never had before. And that night, although nothing had happened between them, no kisses, no fooling around, he'd still stayed with her the whole night, holding her, soothing her as she'd cried. He'd held her hand during the whole flight back to New York. They'd shared a coffee in his office and she had thought, at long last, after the years, it was finally _their _time.

She admitted she was starting to feel frustrated. First Danny and Lindsay, finally sorting out their problems, getting pregnant, getting married, now with the baby. Then Rebecca and Flack.

She wanted to be loved, she wanted to be a mother. _Correction_, she wanted _him_ to love her. To love her back. She wanted to carry, to love and to nurture _their_ babies.

But then things had gone back to the way they were. He was her friend, but he had gone back to being distant.

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She had stopped dating other people. She no longer saw the point. She constantly made time for him, for dinner, for coffee. Much more than before. She would drag him out of work, spend time with him. In short, she did most everything except throw herself right at him. Somehow, she always made it to Cozy's every week. She would kiss him goodnight; instead of on the cheek, she would kiss the corner of his mouth, get up close and personal, splay her hand open on his chest, feeling the muscles under his shirt.

The first time she had done that, changed their goodnight routine, he had blushed. Now he held her closer when she did. But he was still distant.

Which was why she had finally snapped. Why she was taking matters into her own hands. Because it was way beyond time.

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One night, she went over to his place, nice dress on, bag of groceries in hand, to make him dinner. She had dressed with care, in a black, long-sleeved backless dress that she knew he liked. She had waited for him. And waited.

Finally, a little angry, she had left, locking up as she went. His next door neighbor had poked her head out of the door at the noise.

"Ah Detective!" she said, "You looking for Mac Taylor?"

She had nodded. The woman had smiled a nervous smile, no doubt due to the look of thunder on her neighbor's friend.

"He went out, all dressed up," the woman continued, "I think he said he had to meet his young lady."

And the neighbor watched the detective's face fall, right before she stormed off towards the stairs.

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She was walking down the sidewalk, brushing furious tears from her eyes when her cell started ringing. The ID on the screen familiar. It's Mac. Angry, she still took the call.

"_Bonasera!"_ she snapped.

The voice on the other end of the line chuckled.

"_Turn around,"_ he said.

And she did, seeing him walking towards her, flowers in hand, a bottle of wine poking out the pocket of his raincoat. So she stopped, hung up the call, waited for him to catch up to her. She knew her feelings must be showing on her face.

"I'm tired," she said, "Can we not discuss this tomorrow?" all the while hoping he wouldn't so she wouldn't have to explain why she was over on his side of town, right outside his apartment building.

"I don't think so," he said, still smiling.

She gestured to the flowers.

"Your neighbor told me you were out seeing a young lady," she said, "She not in?"

"Not when you're standing right here, no," he said.

She had to admit later, it took a while before the realization of what he was saying dawned on her. Her first thought was that he was pitying her.

"Do I seem that lonely?" she asked him angrily.

He simply smiled.

"No," he stated, "I just thought it was about time."

"Time for what?" she asked, confused.

In reply, he reached out with the arm that wasn't holding flowers and pulled her close to him, pushing her curls behind her ear, dropping his gaze to her lips, which had parted slightly, her eyes widening as she realized what he meant, as though she was a little startled. He dropped the flowers and pulled her into his embrace. He ran his thumb across her mouth.

"About time for this," he said, dipping his head. And then he kissed her gently.

She smiled and wound her arms around his neck.

"It's way beyond time," she replied, before kissing him right back.

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**Simple and sweet huh? Well in this AU, it is simple and sweet, so there. Now in another, dirtier AU, how they got together, well…. Head over to the M section for another one of my stories and you'll see what I mean!**

**Hope all you Smack'ed shippers out there liked it. Not as good at suallenparker, AIP or MrAprilFoolsWatanuki but….**


	3. Chapter 3

**Mitzvah (T)**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters; CBS/Alliance/Bruckheimer does.**

**This one-shot is a response to the recent episode, Yahrzeit: It contains spoilers.**

**It is also in memory of a dear, dear friend who passed away recently.**

**With thanks to Tinks, who I can honestly say is a total inspiration.**

_**This story was originally posted as a stand-alone one-shot and was nominated for Best One Shot in the CSI:NY Awards (didn't win though!), but as I'm reposting and in the interests of less complication, it is reposted under **__**New York Nights**__**even though it occurs strictly during daylight hours LOL!**_

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

She barely made it to the street before the contents of her stomach made their unwanted appearance. She felt the vomit burn her mouth, her nose, bringing tears to her eyes.

Wobbling, the straightened up and shakily made her way back to the side of the apartment building, where she collapsed, leaning against the wall.

_It was all real_, she thought, _all those things she had been told, all of it. Real._

A shadow fell over her, she looked up to see the concerned look in the blue-eyed detective's eyes.

The young officer opened the collar of her uniform to give herself some air and placed the back of her hand across her forehead. She closed her eyes.

Don Flack Jr had seen the young uniform go white, as she'd approached the secret room, before she'd run from the room as though being chased by something truly terrible. The other uniforms hadn't seemed surprised. The kid was a rookie, they'd said, although they'd been surprised that a load of WW2 memorabilia had set her off. Normally it was a bad murder scene. Now, as he stood over her, the small Star of David pendant on a silver chain spilling from under her uniform, he understood.

"I don't think I ever really understood the scale of it," she whispered.

He looked down. He glanced at the concerned CSI who had come to see what the issue was, a frown in her golden brown eyes, waving her away. He brought himself down to the young uniform's level. She was turning out her pockets looking for something. He handed her his handkerchief. She accepted it with a small smile, wiping the remains of her episode off her face.

"What was in that room," he agreed, "It was sick. Really sick."

"Do you know what makes it worse?" she asked. He shook his head.

"It's that it was all in a secret room. All those things. Those _menorahs_, the _tallits, _they were all in a secret room."

_Much like how her people had hid, or tried to hide, from the Nazis, the SS, the people who hated the Jews. In secret rooms._

"They tell us all about it you know," she continued, "We remember the dead on _Yom Kippur_, on _Yom Ha-Shoah_ – the day of remembrance for the Holocaust. I've been to the Shoah Foundation, we all had classes as kids in the Synagogue. I've even been to _Yad Vashem_, the memorial museum in Israel. When I spent a year on a _Kibbutz_, before I joined the academy."

He nodded.

"They hammer it into us that this was done to us, to our families, to our people. I lost great-grandparents in the Shoah. My grandmother was a replacement for children that were gassed in Auschwitz. I've seen pictures of what those bastards did. Hell, when my family went to Europe one year, I even went to Dachau, one of the concentration camps, the one where they did all the experiments on inmates."

Flack didn't know that. He sort of knew about Mengele and Auschwitz, but not about the other places.

She leant her head back against the wall, closing her eyes again.

"How can people today keep that sort of thing? How can people still be like that? I just don't understand."

Flack really didn't want to explain about Elgers just yet. Would she be able to handle a man who tattooed himself with the kinds of symbols some governments banned by law?

Suddenly she looked queasy again.

"That man," she said, "That man kept _gold teeth_, teeth they ripped out of mouths with pliers, before they burnt them, in a _Kiddush_ cup. Do you know what a _Kiddush_ cup is?"

Flack shook his head.

"It's a ceremonial cup. We use it on _Shabbat_, the Sabbath, when we break bread and drink wine to celebrate its coming again."

The girl went green and was violently sick again. Flack rubbed her back until she stopped heaving.

"Kid," he said, "What's your name?"

"Rebecca Green," she replied.

"OK, Officer Green, this is what I want you to do. I want you to go back to the Precinct and tell your sergeant that you need to go home. That you ate a bad prawn or something, OK?"

She opened her mouth to protest. Flack held his hand up.

"No buts kid," he said firmly, "That shit made me sick to my stomach and I don't have half the reason you do. Go home. Talk to your family. Talk to your Rabbi. Pray, if that's what you need to do. But I'll square it with your captain if it comes to that.

The girl smiled gratefully. Flack helped her to her feet. A concerned uniform was standing by a squad car; _her partner,_ Flack guessed.

"Make sure she gets back to your squad room OK," he said. The uniform nodded, before putting his arm around his young partner's officer and guiding her to the squad car. They drove off.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Flack heard later that Officer Green had witnessed the subsequent interviews with Elgers and Klein. _Braun_, Flack corrected. When she's heard Braun say they should have killed them all, she'd had to be bodily removed from the vicinity of the interrogation room by two other uniforms. They'd not reported her though. Everyone had felt the same. Without Green's excuse.

Flack hoped she didn't know about the trade in holocaust victims' possessions. He really hoped she didn't.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

_That year, on Yom Ha-Shoah, when Rebecca Green lit candles with her family for the dead, for the victims, for the first time she truly understood why they did._

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

**And that's it folks. Review if you want to, but it's just a little something that was kicking around my head after the episode. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Steam Rising (M++++++!)**

_**This story was originally posted as a smut fest in four parts, which I edited to introduce the concept of "insert your favorite character here" which seemed to be popular but no-one else has tried – a challenge for you all! Enjoy it again, under the heading of **__**New York Nights**_

**Right – before I even get into the disclaimer, here's something you all need to know. **

**This is slash-orientated. It involves our favorite characters. And it's M-rated from the word go. And there's voyeurism. **

****IF YOU DON'T LIKE THAT KINDA THING STOP READING NOW!****

**In fact. I'd go as far as referring to it as absolute filth.**

**But it has been kicking around my head for weeks and it needs to be got out.**

**Tinks, my darling, I hope you enjoy after all the crappy time you've had recently; note that this part is **_**especially**_** dedicated to you, seeing as you, well, **_**inspired**_** me [laughs dirty laugh].**

**It's also for **_**lovlyangl, bubble-rouge08 **_**and **_**Graces**_**, in the hope that you enjoy this little story as much as I've enjoyed yours.**

**Disclaimer: All characters and settings are owned by CBS/Alliance/Bruckheimer. No offense is intended to any parties.**

**Plus, ****BROWN-EYED GIRL 75 MADE ME DO IT!**** Honest.**

**I'm not always totally obsessed with smut, by the way. Sometimes I do actually have other plot lines and stories in my head!**

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If there was one thing the CSI _absolutely_ hated it was Dumpster Diving. If there was a second thing she hated, it was _having_ to dumpster-dive because _you_ were the on-call CSI.

Even worse, it was supposed to be _her boss's_ turn to be on call, but sucker that she was, she'd agreed to swap, seeing as he'd gone and got himself stuck across the river at another crime scene.

She'd ended up, minus her overalls, thigh deep in all manner of nasty trash (what some people used as sex toys, she _never_ wanted to think about again), bugs (her least favorite) and…rats. Yes, just to really finish the delightful experience off, three rats had ended up scampering across her as she was trying to process the DB dumped in a dumpster, somewhere in Chinatown.

Great, just _great._

She was sure the Unis were going to get some serious mileage out of that one, watching the CSI to pretty much leap right outta the dumpster, screaming blue murder that had caused multiple lights to come on all over the neighborhood. And no few calls to 911, something that had got the graveyard homicide detective attached to her case smirking and sniggering like a teenager seeing breasts for the first time.

Her clothes were beyond salvage. She wasn't sure if _she_ was beyond salvage. So here she was, back at the lab, in the shower room. Late at night, no graveyard shift to be seen (god only knows where _they_ were).

She stepped under the hot spray and washed away all the smells, the dirt and the really crappy night so far. If there was one thing she really enjoyed, it was her alone time in the Lab's showers, under the power spray, letting the powerful jets of water sooth away all the day's nasty events, crime scenes, bad arguments with Mac Taylor and every other team member she'd crossed swords with on her daily quest for justice.

She kept expensive shower gel at the lab – she loved Poeme by Lancome, all honey based and sensual – with a matching body lotion. Not the stuff she used daily. Some of her colleagues thought she was crazy using that expensive shit at the lab, where she didn't often use the facilities. She knew better. Sometimes, this alone time, in the place where she often couldn't even have a thought to herself, was so precious it had to be enjoyed. The perfume itself always followed.

Plus, she had to admit, she loved watching the look on the men's faces in the lab as they tried to figure out where the amazing aroma was coming from, as they didn't instantly associate it with her.

Lathered up, relaxed and starting to feel just a little unwound, she started to rinse herself off dimly aware that another shower had started up, just a few stalls away.

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She grabbed a large towel from the hook where she'd left it and was heading back to the ladies' side of the locker room when she heard the first moan. Deep and masculine.

She was intrigued. Who the hell was that and, more to the point, _what the hell where they up to?_

It sounded vaguely familiar.

She was more than a little surprised when another, _deeper_ moan, from an obviously different set of vocal cords joined it an instant later.

She couldn't stop herself. She found herself walking towards the sound, her feet propelled by a force not of her making.

The curtain to the stall in question was slightly open and all she could see was two figures and a helluva lot of steam.

All she could see through the curtain was one figure; tall, dark-haired, naked. She couldn't quite see clearly who it was. Maybe some Unis from the precinct, some guys who wanted some boy-on-boy without the hassle and jibes from their oh-so-masculine co-workers. She caught a glimpse of a second figure, slightly shorter, just as well-toned, paler hair.

Coming closer, she gripped the curtain and pulled it back slightly more. And gasped.

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Right in front of her were two men she had had frequent single fantasies about. At home, all by herself with her toys and sometimes just with her hand. Sometimes alone, sometimes all of them together. Sometimes, when a case was just proving a little too much or the day was slow, she'd indulge in a little daydream.

Of course, they weren't the only two who featured. Sometimes they were all there, involved. Sometimes they just liked to watch as one or two just got on down to it.

Here were two strong, attractive, sexy men helping each other release a little of the day's tension as friends sometimes do, no strings attached. And she found the sight of the two men kissing, their hands roving all over each other's wet, lathered bodies incredibly hot. More so than any daydream she'd ever had.

She didn't realize she'd gasped out loud until the taller man turned to her, smirked, grabbed her wrist in his big, strong hand and pulled her towards him and the other man.

She stumbled, lost the grip on her towel, _lost_ the towel and landed smack in the middle between the sexy tall man and his partner.

"See somethin' ya like?" asked the other man.

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She was pinned between them, able to feel the man behind her, his hot breath on her neck as he started to kiss it and his hands started roaming her shoulders. The man in front of her began kissing the other side of her neck, his hands gently stroking her stomach.

The water poured down, soaking all of them.

Her breathing changed. _This wasn't actually happening, right? _She must have fallen asleep in the shower. A nip to her ear, from someone's sharp teeth brought her right back into reality…And the fact that she was slap dang in the middle of a reality that was so far beyond what she'd ever let herself fantasize about it wasn't funny.

The tall man behind her started to whisper in her ear, moving his hands so they covered her breasts, gently kneading the soft flesh. He looked the other man in the eye and he just grinned in response.

They wanted to please her, but they also wanted to have some fun. So they were going to satisfy her…together.

She caught her breath and felt her knees go week as the man in front of her started to stroke up the front of her thighs, then the inside, where the flesh was soft and very, very sensitive. She could feel them both now, hard against her, both at her back and her stomach. The man behind her pinched her nipples lightly and she arched forward into his touch, throwing her head back, gaping. The sensitive flesh started to peak. She felt one smile and saw the other grin knowingly.

And then the man in front of her moved his hands higher. Parted her between her curls.

And stopped. She whimpered.

Between erotic licks and bites along her neck, the man behind her described how they were both going to touch her in her most intimate places and then while one continued to stimulate her any way he chose, the other was going to bend her over, slip inside her and give her the ride of her life.

But not before she was really, really ready. And absolutely desperate.

She'd seen how this pair worked together; she'd seen them, dedicated, focused. She didn't doubt that what he was saying was true. For everything they did.

And then they began to move their hands.

The man in front of her began to touch her, right on that little spot, gently at first, as his other hand moved up to take hold of one of her breasts. In between kissing her neck, he'd occasionally pull his face back from hers to watch the reaction on her face, how she reacted to his touch.

Meanwhile, the man behind her had moved his mouth to the top of her spine, after first moving her hair out of the way. He sucked gently on the skin covering her neck, starting to send tingles shooting all the way down her spinal cord. One hand had a hold of the other breast and the other was playing and stroking the small of her back, in a place where nerve endings are so sensitive that they send little shockwaves of their own, down and around, when someone stimulates them.

Of course, that only intensified what the man in front of her was doing, a fact he knew only too well from the look on her face. He slid his fingers further down towards her folds, just to see how well they were doing. He grinned in satisfaction at her reaction, knowing both of their ministrations were turning her on. She could feel how wet she was getting. Incredibly so.

_She was sure this was a dream. It had to be._

The man in front of her whispered something she couldn't hear in his partner's ear, before they obviously shared a long, passionate kiss. Then, as the man in front of her turned his face back to hers, he took her lips in an erotic kiss, just as she felt the man behind her slide two fingers into her.

It was a good thing she was being kissed, because otherwise she would have moaned loudly.

Somehow, they were moving their hands in perfect unison, in a perfect rhythm that was taking her higher. She felt another large finger being inserted and then she was gently pushed forward. The man in front of her now had his back to the shower wall and she was leaning forward slightly. The man behind her moved himself in between her thighs, opening her up more, so he could get better access.

Then they both began to move their hands faster. And she couldn't help but scream in pleasure as the first orgasm overtook her.

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Her legs shook; they both supported her so she remained upright. As though she was dreaming, the man in front of her slipped to his knees and knelt between her thighs. He grasped them, holding onto her legs just below her soft ass, pulling her forward. At the same time, the man behind her pushed her gently, so that she was forced to put her hands on the shower wall to brace herself. The man behind her had withdrawn his fingers, although she could still feel him, still hard, standing behind her. She was dimly aware that the man in front of her had taken over his task of stimulating her G spot with his fingers. They felt different, more tapered somehow, but just as magic in their touch.

She heard the sound of a wrapper being torn and realized what was about to happen. The man in front of her withdrew his fingers and as she looked down, she watched him lick each one, one at a time, with a very dirty look, full of erotic promise showing across his face. Then, as he bent his head forward, burying his face in her curls, his tongue seeking out the heart of her, she felt the man behind her push her forward a little, one hand on her hips, pulling her into exactly the right position, as his knees, impossibly, forced her legs further apart. She couldn't contain the moan as she felt the tip of him brush against her entrance. He brushed himself across her, once, twice three times, all the while holding her hips steady with his other hand so that she couldn't take the initiative and move herself back onto him. As the man in front of her sucked on her clit, hard, the man behind her pushed himself inside her with one, hard, deep thrust, filling her up.

He was incredibly big, filling her so much and she could hear herself, as though she were distant, telling them, begging them, that this was too much, that she couldn't handle it, that the sensations were too much.

Both men chuckled, something she was able to feel across her clit as one used the laugh to stimulate her further, the vibration rippling across her, causing her to cry out as it sent shivers across her belly. The man behind her just began to thrust harder and deeper in response.

She couldn't help herself, her own hips were thrusting towards both men and she felt her second orgasm take her, causing her to shake. In response, both men simply braced themselves, so that she didn't fall and continued to move, to lick, to suck and to touch, as the man in front of her was stroking her belly and her inner thighs, while the man behind her was using his free hand to sweep up and down her spine, causing the sensitive area to become almost unbearably aroused.

They made her come again and again, refusing to stop until her fourth and biggest orgasm so far had taken her. Then the man behind her gripped her hips and let himself go, thrusting into her even harder and faster than he had before, until he too came, pushing himself into her deeply, more so than anyone had ever taken her, before relaxing against her back, his face pressed into her shoulder. The man in front of her rested his face against her thighs, holding her around the hips. She could feel his breath.

They released her, her knees buckled and she slipped to the tiled floor. The man behind her pushed himself backwards and leaned against the wall, while the man in front of her stood up, still hard. He looked down at her, lust in his eyes.

She looked back up at him, knowing without words what he wanted. Then both men helped her to kneel in front of him, assisting her to take him in her mouth. Both men kissed above her, deeply, touching each other, as one gently stroked her hair.

The scene they had all played out together had served to arouse the last to the point where he suffered his little death, helped, in part, by his own self-stimulation. She drank all of him down, before the two men also collapsed to the floor, spent as she was. Replete.

They kissed each other, hands moving, gently stroking each other until they all recovered enough. One of them, she didn't know who, turned off the shower and then they both dried her off and helped her to dress in the deserted locker room, chuckling at her dazed expression. She lay on the benches, exhausted and yet not, listening to the sound of clothing rustling as the men dressed themselves. Then there was silence.

After a few minutes, she opened her eyes, to see both men staring down at her questioningly. She looked from one to the other.

"Can we take you home?" one asked, although she knew what they were really asking.

And despite everything that they had done together, she wasn't totally exhausted.

She wanted more.

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Somehow, she didn't know how, they got to the parking level and the taller man helped her into the back seat. The shorter man climbed into the front seat of the black SUV and pulled out of the tall building that housed the lab.

As they drove through the city's dark streets towards her apartment building, she lay across the seats, partly sprawled against the hard, toned body of one of the two men, who barely an hour before, had only been a colleague and friend. His hands gently stroked her body over her clothes. His hands would sweep the length of her thigh, down her forearm. It wasn't particularly sexual, more a statement of comfort, of the fact that she was simply there. She snuggled herself more deeply into his arms, hearing a low, throaty chuckle come from him as she nuzzled her face against the crisp cotton of the striped shirt buttoned over his muscled chest. She felt warm, cared for. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, watching his blue eyes looking down on her with warm amusement. She glanced over at the front seat, seeing a matching pair of eyes watching them from the mirror. The man who embraced her bent his head.

"I'd start something right here and now if I didn't think he'd crash," he whispered.

She smiled and closed her eyes again, starting to drift off to sleep. She didn't feel weird, or guilty, just overdosed on the endorphins that were coursing through her system. And she didn't want to analyze it or wonder about what would happen next.

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The lights were dimmed, thought the third man, as he walked the empty corridors of the lab. From time to time he spotted someone, one of the graveyard shift, at work, usually alone. Not many people were here at this time of night. He had found her evidence, logged meticulously, the analysis begun. But she was missing and that wasn't like her.

The night security guard on the desk had explained she'd left for the night. He'd also explained that she'd had a bit of a night of it in Chinatown. She'd come back looking and smelling rough. Dumpster diving. She'd left looking better for her shower.

The third man felt a twinge of guilt for following up a personal case and not being there to take what had been, after all, his case to take.

But he'd expected to find her there, to be able to take her out for one of their late-night coffees or snacks. It worried him that she wasn't there. It rattled him. Out of their usual routine. He called her cell. When she didn't pick up, he called her apartment. As her machine picked up, he left a message before heading out into the night, to the closest diner, for a coffee, alone.

Midway through his second cup, he realized he was still worried about her, still unnerved that she hadn't been there for him. And so he decided, out of concern for her safety, that he had to go by her house and check on her.

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They had ridden the elevator to her apartment, one with his arm around her, the other with his hand in hers. None of them had spoken. Things were being left unspoken. They had received a few strange looks from some people, which a few hard looks from the men had dealt with. She had seen a couple of envious looks too, which had brought a smile to her face. She could imagine what they were thinking and wondering. _And probably not far from the truth,_ she thought.

They arrived on her floor. They walked to her door. They lingered in her living room for a while, drinking wine, which was not their usual drink of choice, but they didn't complain. The shorter man left to find the bathroom, which was off her bedroom, switching on the bedside lamps as he made his way through. She put some music on low and then returned to the sofa, where the taller man sat, his legs crossed, arms stretched out across the top of the back of it. She stopped in front of him, slightly unsure. He looked up at her, yet without any questions in his eyes. He was simply waiting for her.

She jumped as a pair of arms snaked around her waist and a mouth nuzzled her hair from hr neck. She hadn't heard him come up behind her; he'd obviously discarded his shoes in her bedroom on the way back. Her lips parted silently as he found a sensitive spot just at the crease where her shoulder met her neck and his tongue gently ran over and over it, finally making her moan, the small sound escaping her lips.

The taller man stood then, dipping his head as he pulled them towards him. His mouth claimed hers in a gentle kiss, yet full of passion.

She said nothing, she simply nodded.

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The three of them stood by her bed. She unbuttoned the taller man's shirt, taking the time to admire the toned muscles of his chest, the hair – just enough to make him all man. Some men, she mused, waxed, something she could never understand. These two, though, reveled in their masculinity. Wore it as the badge of pride it was, along with their scars from the job.

As she peeled the shirt from him, she felt the man behind her unbutton her pants, sliding them over her hips. She kissed the man in front of her then, as her own hands turned their attention to his belt, to his button, to the zip of his fly. He grinned lasciviously, tugging at the hem of her top, lifting it over her head in one move, so that she was left standing there in her lingerie and heels. He turned her round so that she was facing the other man. The taller man kissed her neck as he told her to remove his t-shirt as his own hands attended to the other man's belt and jeans. The grin on the other man's face told its own story. Then he stepped closer to the two of them, kissing the other side of her neck and all three of them tumbled onto her bed.

They lay either side of her, propping themselves up on an arm, touching her with the other, stroking her skin, getting to know every inch of her, gently kissing her mouth, her shoulders, her breasts in worship of her perfect shape as though they were imprinting every piece of her onto their memories. There was something incredibly sensual and erotic about being with the two of them, the way they attended to every part of her without needing to be told what she needed.

Somehow, she found herself leaning over the taller man, who by now was propped up, half sitting, against the pillows, the shorter man lying next to him, stroking her back. The taller man was already erect, his length nudging her thigh. He looked her deep in the eyes. He didn't need to ask, as she moved herself down the bed, kissing a trail from his chest, down his abdomen to his pelvis.

Fair was fair, she thought, what one enjoyed already the other should too. She moved to the side, positioning herself on one arm so that she could take him in one hand, watching his face as she moved her hand up and down his cock, smoothing the leaking pre-cum across his head with her thumb. His eyes never left hers, the blue deepening the more she touched him, his hips, his length making the tiniest of jerks up into her hand. She smiled, satisfied, and bent further over him, lowering her head to where she suspected he wanted it. She breathed on him, laughing a little as she watched him jerk towards her mouth. She repeated the action al the way to the bottom, her hand never stopping its movements up and down all of him, his breathing becoming more harsh. Then her tongue darted out of her mouth, taking the tiniest of licks, up and down, tasting his whole length. His hands moved to her head, his fingers twisting themselves firmly into her curls.

She glanced once at the other man, who was lying beside them, smiling, stroking himself, making himself hard as well, knowing from earlier that evening how good she was at what she was about to do to his friend and partner. He stretched out his other hand, coming to rest on her breast, giving it a gentle squeeze. She grinned and lowered her head, busying herself with the task at hand, taking the head of the taller man's proud erection into her mouth, sweeping her tongue around the top, across it, all the while still moving her other hand. She was rewarded with a moan and the hands tightening still further in her hair, forcing her to take more of his length into her hot, talented little mouth. She chuckled at that, the vibration of it around him causing him to swear, so she started to hum, the sensation of which caused him to buck his hips up into her mouth and her to take even more of him into her, moving her hand faster. She changed her position, so that she was on her knees above him, a position that freed up both her hands. One continued to stimulate his cock as the other gently played with his balls and stroked at the sensitive area right behind them. He groaned again and she felt the twitch, the slight enlargement, that indicated he was getting close.

She heard, rather than felt, the mattress springs, that indicated the other man was moving too, but she felt his knees behind her, his hands unclipping her bra, sliding the straps down her arms. She was momentarily distracted as his hands found her breasts, teasing her nipples into peaks, his mouth kissing down her back. As the other man tugged her head back down, forcing his willing victim to take him deeper into her mouth, one of the shorter man's hands found its way between her thighs, beginning to gently stroke her folds. She gasped around the taller man's cock, his hips bucking up towards her. As the shorter man began to stroke her rhythmically through the fabric, she began to suck more fiercely, to stroke him more roughly and her actions were rewarded moments later, with a sudden gush of fluid into her mouth, which she drank down as she tasted him then gently made sure she got all of it, his fingers convulsing in her hair, tangling further as he came.

The shorter man stopped his actions then, pulling her up against him, before tumbling them over so that they too now lay against the pillows propped up. The shorter man's hands continued to roam her body, his fingers dipping every now and then, just under the top of her panties, which, now she had kicked off her heels, were the only thing left she was wearing. A few minutes later, having taken the time to recover, the taller man grinned at her, before moving himself over their bodies, moving so that he knelt between her thighs. He tugged at her panties, saying without words that he wanted her to raise her pretty hips so that he could take them off. She acquiesced, her eyes heavily lidded as she watched him settle between her thighs and dip his own head, returning the favor she had recently paid.

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She watched him look up at her, a playful look in his eyes, as he gently rubbed his stubble over her vulva. She gasped at the unfamiliar sensation, her legs unconsciously moving further apart to allow him more access. His hands gently parted her, revealing her pink, aroused clit and he repeated the action, this time on the more sensitive flesh. She moaned this time, her hips rising to meet his mouth. He chuckled.

As she tried to hold his head, her hands were caught back by the shorter man behind her, his erection pressed into her back, as he very gently thrust into the small of her back. He nudged her hair aside, kissing her neck as he watched his friend begin to work her up to orgasm.

He licked, following that up blowing gently on the sensitive area, suddenly making it cold. As she tried to raise her hips to his mouth, an arm shot across her stomach, restraining her movements, causing her to groan with frustration. As the taller man dipped his dark head towards her again, she was rewarded with the feel of his tongue on her and his teeth gently, so gently, squeezing around the sensitive flesh, sending a shiver of pure pleasure right through her. Then his fingers gently parted the folds beneath and probed at her entrance, by now betraying her desire for him, the wetness testimony to both men's ministrations to her passion.

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_Meanwhile, the third man has arrived at his partner's building and he is in the elevator, rising swiftly towards them._

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Her body bucks upwards again and again, as the delicious sensations sweep through her, causing a rush of wetness to coat the taller man's fingers as he continues to stimulate the sensitive spot within her, as his tongue laves her sensitive areas. She cries out with passion again and again, as the man behind her whispers in her ear how sexy she looks like that, her body quivering with passion and release, as he touches her breasts, kneading the flesh, teasing her nipples. All of her is being stimulated and it's a feeling that threatens to overwhelm her.

Then she is being moved again, to one side, as the taller man moves up the bed, a slightly predatory look in his eyes as he reaches for his partner. The shorter man pushes himself up off the bed, meeting him halfway, their lips crushing together in a passionate kiss. She can see their tongues melding, their teeth crashing together. She reached out to the bedside table, snagging a packet from the drawer, wordlessly handing it to the taller man. He rips it open, his hands shaking a little, as he rolls the latex down the shorter man, an action which has him buck his cock into the other man's hands. She thinks it is her turn to watch, when two pairs of strong arms reach for her, positioning her over the shorter man, his erection jutting up towards her. Both men are helping, the shorter man pulling her hips down on top of him, the other parting her, providing her support against her back. They lower her. She feels the head of the shorter man's penis at her entrance, nudging inside her. She takes a sharp intake of breath and then feels the rest of him slide inside her folds, filling her, as the man below her bites his lip and thrusts his hips towards hers, enjoying the sensation of her all around him.

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_A key turns in the lock. After all, as her close friend, he has the spare to her apartment as she does to his. Silently, he walks inside the apartment, noting the lights still on in the living room, the three glasses on the kitchen counter beside the mostly empty bottom of wine, noticing the soft music still playing, the three jackets discarded in different places around the room. He hears sounds coming from the bedroom. Before he knows it, his feet have carried him across the room, to the door, which is only slightly ajar. He pushes the door open. He sees the sight of the three people in front of him, on her bed, locked into their intimate embrace. He takes a sharp intake of breath._

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She stops moving, her eyes flying open in shock, looking at the shorter man, who is looking beyond her, behind her, at the intruder. From his face she can tell her knows who it is. She tries to twist round, to see who it is, but the man behind her prevents her from moving, then moves his hand to the front of her, stroking her clit again, distracting her, causing her to arch back against him and down onto the shorter man in front of her. They begin moving again. She is not aware of the third man moving into the room, walking to the easy chair that sits by the bed. She no longer cares who sees her like this, so lost in the passion of what the two men have done to her, are doing to her. She rocks forward, eliciting a string of swearing from the man underneath her and a chuckle from the man behind her, his slowly returning erection pressing into her buttocks as he rubs himself back to arousal again. He continues his ministrations with one hand as he turns to look at the third man, now seated by the bed, unspeaking, his hands clenched on the arms of the chair as the scene unfolds in front of him.

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_Part of him cannot quite process what he is seeing, although it is the sexiest thing he has seen in a very long time. The most beautiful woman of his acquaintance in naked abandon, lost in lust and passion, pleasuring and being pleasured by two men. Her cries, her movements stir something inside him, begin to stir him. His hands relax from their vice like grip on the upholstery and one hand loosens his own belt to attend to his own arousal, that has been building from the moment he has entered the room._

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The taller man notices the third man's actions and the shorter man glances over at him when he sees where his friend is looking. The feeling of being watched adds a new dimension to the sensations he is experiencing and he grips the woman's hips, driving himself up and into her more deeply than before as he watches the third man begin to stroke himself.

She feels the shorter man's movements become rougher and less controlled and she is trying not to look towards where she knows the third man is sitting. The taller man's fingers continue to stroke her but now his hand is on the side of her face, forcing her to turn her head, to look at what the third man is doing.

"Do you see that?" he whispers, "How turned on he is at the sight of you? At how lost you are in us, in what we are doing? Do you see how sexy he finds you? In how sexy _we_ find you?"

And then she cries out again as she feels the gentle flutters of her muscles across her abdomen, as the taller man's fingers stroke her more roughly, as her clit tightens, as the shorter man grabs her hips and drives himself even deeper into her, becoming rough as his climax approaches.

And then it is on both of them at once. The tension winding itself up into the ultimate knot before exploding across both of them, the release rippling across their skin as they grind onto each other, that last thrust before he spills into the condom and her muscles grip him tighter than before. She's dimly aware of his shout out in satisfaction and her own bird-like cries of pleasure, before she collapses on top of him, shattered and exhausted.

The taller man gently helps her to roll to one side, positioning her head gently onto the pillows as he helps his friend to stand. He grins down at the woman they have so recently pleasured, nodding towards the bathroom. His erection is full and she understands that he wants to continue now what she interrupted in the shower room at the lab. The two men walk, hand in hand towards the bathroom. At the door, both men pause, look back towards the third man, seated in the chair and then the taller man nods once at him, as though understanding what must be going through his mind. The two men enter the bathroom and the door closes. Through the wood, she hears the faint sound of her shower starting up and smiles, knowing what the two of them will be doing to each other in a matter of moments.

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The third man sits for a moment, watching her. He is fairly certain that they have been given some privacy. She turns her head to look at him, a steady glance, a look he knows so well from her. Her body is covered with a slight sheen of sweat, her body still pink, flushed with a post-orgasmic glow.

His mind is still trying to process what he has seen, but all he can think of is her in front of him, like this, waiting, but for what?

He stands.

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_**Girls who are boys**____**  
**__**Who like boys to be girls**____**  
**__**Who do boys like they're girls**____**  
**__**Who do girls like they're boys**____**  
**__**Always should be someone you really love**___

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He stood.

She watched him. Her eyes never leaving his. Then her lips parted as she watched him slowly start to remove his own clothes. Shucking his shoes as he unbuttoned his shirt, swiftly unbuttoning his belt and pants, dropping each garment onto the floor as he dealt with it.

She'd enjoyed what she'd done with the others, she had. If nothing else, she had serious material for fantasies for a long time to come. But the third man? She'd dreamed of him for so long, to make love to her, to hold her in a way beyond comfort. Even when he'd held her, when so many things had gone wrong, she'd felt him holding back. Watching him strip the last of the fabric from his body, seeing him naked for the first time, she realized that he wasn't holding back anymore. Some final barrier was gone, some final last emotional distance had been covered.

She heard the mattress creak as he climbed onto it, watched him crawl towards her.

She held her breath.

He had a purposeful look in his eyes.

The kind of look that made a woman hold her breath and hope, desperately, for what came next. He was next to her. He propped himself up on one arm, the other he placed, palm down on her stomach.

"Hi," he said simply.

She just smiled in return, covering his hand with her own. If truth be told, she'd imagined him like this, laying next to her, looking at her, that intense, searing look in his pale eyes. But she'd never seen him _actually_ like this, so close, so naked, so stripped bare, right down to raw emotion. There was something about the look in his eyes, almost desperate. He leaned over her and gently kissed her, as though testing the water.

She snaked an arm round his neck, pulling him down to her, feeling his kiss deepen, opening her mouth to his. His arms came up to rest by her head, one leg slipped between hers and for a few moments they enjoyed the simplicity of the kiss, which came to an end naturally. His hands played gently with one of her curls and he smiled down at her, a warm smile. Her hands stroked the side of his neck. She bit her lip, a question forming in her eyes, an anxiety rising to the surface. She couldn't bear it if he thought, if he decided she, if this was…?

"It's OK," he reassured her, "Before, it was one of those things."

Then he moved, settling himself between her thighs, letting her feel all of him ready for her.

"_This_ isn't," he said, "This is a starting point, for both of us."

She nodded, relief washing over her. Their lips met in another kiss, his hands moving to sweep over her body; firm, sure caresses of a man getting to know every inch of his partner in a whole new way. There was no turning back from this, she was sure. Her eyes closed briefly, opening when he tugged her hair to get her attention.

"I mean it," he said, "That was hot, before, but no more."

He leaned closer and whispered, a raw, husky demanding tone in his voice, one she had never heard.

"I'm going to wipe every damn memory of any other man out of your head," he said, in a tone that got her tingling all by itself and moved inside her in a sudden move that had her gasp and arch into him they way she had always imagined she would. She didn't doubt for a second that he meant every word, that what he said was the truth.

She looked into his eyes and saw the emotion in them, the need, his passion for her. Every kiss, every exploration of his tongue matched what he was doing with his body and it felt like it was reaching into her very soul. She could feel herself opening up to him in ways she had never opened up to anyone before. It seemed, she thought, that she had had barriers to let go of too. But any thought of thinking about _anything_ other than the immediate soon fell pretty much by the wayside.

His touches were sure, as though he'd known what she needed, wanted forever. She heard a little voice say in her head _he's been thinking about this too._ They both touched each other, moved together, eliciting gasps and moans from the other as they continued to make love.

Sweat poured off them. Heat came to the surface. Steam rising.

He lifted her leg around his waist, bending his knees, placing one hand on her sensitive spot and began to thrust harder, faster, all the while looking in her eyes, their gaze locking. She didn't want to look away. She couldn't. All she knew was that this man, the man she had wanted and cared about so deeply for such a long time, was eliciting the sweetest, most intense emotions and sensations from her body. And she never wanted him to stop.

She watched the storm building in his eyes, the intensity of his gaze strengthening as he neared his completion. His hand moved more surely, more deftly, bringing her towards hers. And then it happened, like some sort of explosion, the shock wave of their mutual satisfaction hitting them both seconds later. He kissed her once more, before his head came to rest in the crook of her neck. She could feel his smile. She knew she was smiling too.

_That_, she thought, _was long overdue_. And by God, if she'd known how good it was going to be, she'd have dragged him home a lot sooner. Although, she thought, she'd probably have insisted on a date first.

Still, nothing like the thought of losing someone or seeing something, well _intense_, to bring out the intensity in a man, she mused.

They lay there together for a while, basking in each other's warmth, dozing slightly, neither moving.

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She was vaguely aware of the door to the bathroom opening and the two other men coming back into the bedroom. A hand, the taller man's, on the third man's shoulder, pulling him back into the moment.

"Shower's free," he said simply and the third man simply nodded and moved off of her, heading into the bathroom, with one last kiss to the woman he now knew he had long since fallen in love with.

The shorter man held a bowl, steam rising off of it, a towel and washcloths over his arm. Setting the bowl on the bedside table, the two men remaining in the bedroom climbed onto the bed and began gently to wash her after the evening's events, their movements soft and caring. She began to doze, sighing in pleasure at the touch of the cloths and the towel. When they massaged her body lotion into her, she almost purred with how good it felt. Both of them kissed her chastely when they were done.

"That was fun," said he shorter man and she smiled in return. The three knew that would never happen again.

The sound of the shower shutting off came from the bathroom and the third man re-appeared, toweling his wet hair dry. The other two men moved into the bathroom, cleaning up she presumed, turning out lights in the apartment. The third man got into bed with her, pulling her so that she lay partly on top of him, her head fitting into his shoulder as though it had always rested there. He turned out the bedside light.

A few minutes later, she felt the creak of the mattress and the weight of the others joining them. A hand slipped into hers and another's arm reached across to hold her across the waist. And, held like that, by three men she had shared something unique with, she drifted off to sleep.

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As the morning light sneaked into the room through the gaps in her thick curtains, she knew without opening her eyes, that the two younger men were already gone. She also knew, however, that she was still being held by someone, spooning with her, stroking her from thigh to shoulder, already awake. She smiled, putting her hand on his arm, stilling his movements and twisted her head back to look at him. He smiled down at her, affection in his eyes and gently kissed her good morning, as though he had been doing so forever, as he would every morning from now.

"Morning," he said.

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**And that's it folks, how it always played out in my head. Thought she deserved it really! She gets a hot night of passion with every woman's fantasies **_**and**_** the man of her dreams forever awwwwww, no guilt, no foul. Now if only someone could send them my way [sigh] **

**Special hugs and cookies for inspiration and kind words to everyone who supported and reviewed this story originally – you know who you are! Thanks again!**


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